


Otherworld

by holyhael



Series: One Time Wonders [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s02e17 Heart, Gen, Gore, Leviathans, Purgatory, Vampires, Werewolves, Women of Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhael/pseuds/holyhael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This place isn’t Heaven because she hasn’t seen her childhood cat Francis.</p><p>This place isn’t Hell because spiders aren't crawling on every surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Otherworld

**Author's Note:**

> warning: features blood, gore, violence, eating human organs, killing things, a mention of a homophobic mother who is very steadfast in her belief of her interpretation of the bible, thinking about suicide not in a "i want to die" kind of way but in a a philosophical way
> 
> i know that looks like a lot, but i think most of it is pretty canon-typical, or maybe a step further. let me know if you think anything else should be warned for

Madison has never been a religious person, though her mother tried to raise her as one. _The Bible says this; the Bible says that_ , Amanda Bray, née Johnson contended. _Don’t make God angry. Do as They says_.

See, Madison can’t negate the possibility that a god - perhaps many - may be watching over Earth, but if such a god exists, and that god imposes such arbitrary rules, Madison cannot worship Them.

_Eating shellfish is a sin_ , Amanda Bray scolded Madison. _Homosexuality is a sin. Getting a tattoo is a sin._

The last reprimand didn’t stop Madison from getting a butterfly inked on her shoulder two weeks ago, but some of her mother’s other teachings burrowed into her moral values, and even now, facing an inconceivable dilemma, she cannot go against those values.

_That man is going to Hell_ , Amanda Bray told Madison when she learned of her classmate Brock killing himself their sophomore year. _How can he destroy the life God gave him and expect to go to Heaven? The only one who can destroy life is the Good Lord Themself._

Madison kept her head down as she pushed around her supper.

But nearly a decade later, Madison cannot shake this notion.

She may not be human anymore. God may not exist. Suicide may not be a grave sin. But she cannot do it.

She gives Sam Winchester the gun, pleads for him to save her. He refuses at first, but after a moment alone with his brother, he returns.

He’s the last person she sees, but not the last thought she thinks.

_Will I still go to Hell?_

 

 

 

Leaves rustle and crinkle on a breeze next to her ear. She feels some of them tangled in her hair, tugging with the wind. Something scuttles across the detritus; its huffing breath gives it away as a small animal. Blearily, Madison rolls onto her back and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. The ground is unaccommodating beneath her.

Madison blinks her eyes open to see an anemic sky above the evergreen trees. An insect flies through her line of vision. The small creature continues to scamper on the forest floor.

What the hell happened to her?

The last thing she remembers is Sam and then gun and her thoughts on the afterlife. Tears streaked down Sam’s face - Madison’s, too - and the gun shook in his hand until the barrel rested on Madison’s chest. She offered him a smile. Everything would be okay.

He pulled the trigger. An intense fire sliced through her chest. Then nothing. Then… this: a dark forest where the air smells of decay and smoke, where everything is washed out in grey, where the air smells cold but she can’t feel it, even in her oversized shirt and ratty jeans.

Her arms shake at the elbows as she lifts herself out of the dirt. Her skin and clothes are smudged with filth. She runs her fingers through her hair to dislodge the detritus caught in it.

An animal howls in the distance. It sends a shiver down her spine.

Okay. Time to regroup. She needs to figure out where she is. That should be the easiest answer to find. All Madison needs to do is find a sign of some sort - a carelessly discarded brochure, a trail map, a house or a building even. Something.

Did she actually die?

Her memories of dying strike her as real enough.

She lifts a hand to her chest where she feels the phantom burning of the bullet still searing her. Her fingers come away wet. Frowning, Madison tucks her chin down and sees the blood staining her shirt around a bullet hole. She sticks a finger through the hole and wants to retch at the sensation of her own warm, bloody flesh around her finger. Her gag reflex must be dysfunctional.

Wiping her finger off on her shirt, Madison stands up. The bare soles of her feet meet the earth, and with a shock of lightning she suddenly _feels_. She feels the trees around her. She feels the animal dashing in the dead leaves, looking for insects to sate its ever-hungry stomach. She feels the rain coming in. A river cuts a path through the earth half a mile from where Madison stands now, and she’s made aware of the dryness, the foulness in her mouth.

She feels everything.

For the first time in her life, Madison doesn’t feel dissociated from the world around her.

She is a part of something bigger than herself.

She’s come home.

That’s a weird sentiment for her to have, especially when she’s never put much gravity in the word. Home is a place just like a restaurant is a place, like Howe Park is a place; it certainly isn’t a feeling. But here… a piece she never knew was missing from her slides into place. If only she knew where _here_ was.

She’s not on Earth anymore, that’s for certain. At least not the one she knows. She saw a Science Channel special about alternate realities, and wonders now if that’s where she is.

 

 

 

This place isn’t Heaven because she hasn’t seen her childhood cat Francis.

This place isn’t Hell because spiders aren't crawling on every surface.

 

 

 

If werewolves exist, it stands to reason that so do vampires.

And probably many other things as well, but what Madison is most concerned of is the creature barring its teeth before her.

He’s an ugly brute with narrow eyes and a craggy nose. A hole gapes from his forehead; cracked scars spread from it like physical features of a map. He’s at least six inches taller than Madison, and from the look of him he’s also much more experienced in this world. By all counts, he should win the ensuing fight.

Instinct takes over Madison. She crouches. Her claws sink into the loam. She snarls powerfully, feels every atom in her body scream at this vampire. _I am dominant. One step closer and you’ll lose your head._

He nearly does; Madison swipes at him, claws meeting flesh and the air welcoming blood. The vampire touches his injury and looks afraid. He shies away. Madison stands up victoriously and growls at the vampire’s retreating form. _Run away like the candy-ass you are. Go._

 

 

 

Time passes differently in this place, so Madison doesn’t know how long she’s been here before her stomach growls at her. She stops walking for a moment, placing a hand over her abdomen. When the next grumble comes, she feels it against her palm.

What she wouldn’t give for a huge Thanksgiving dinner right about now. Gravy, turkey, stuffing -

No, that’s not quite what she really wants, although she’d eat just about anything in her present state. What actually sounds good is….

Mom’s perfectly-grilled steaks. But not well-done like she’d normally ask. medium rare sounds so much better.

Her stomach growls again. There is no steak here. What is there to eat?

Her ears pick up the faint sounds of something in the area. Turning to the sound, she naturally prowls through the trees, like a regular predator on the hunt. Her treads are light, softened by the forest floor and instinct to keep soundless.

The woman she finds wears only a filthy toga that cuts off above her knees, allowing the bruises and lacerations walking through the forest inflicted on her to show. Her hair falls down to her waist. Something must alert her to Madison’s presence, because without warning, she looks up and freezes.

Fight or flight. Both women have a choice to make.

The hollow pains in Madison’s stomach twinge. Her lip curls up.

She doesn’t make the conscious decision to lunge forward and run after the woman, but when her head catches up to her actions, she can’t stop. She doesn’t _want_ to stop. The woman has turned to run, but Madison is faster; she is on the woman within seconds, and the woman has barely moved two steps since Madison launched out of the underbrush. She’s pinned to the earth easily.

The woman’s eyes flash. “Werewolf?” A smirk. Then, suddenly, the woman’s form is rippling, changing. Her long, wavy blonde hair shrinks, darkens, and straightens. Almond shaped amber eyes turns to something cat-like and icy. The bridge of her nose wrinkles. “I like the change.”

Those are the shapeshifter’s last words. Madison slashes her throat before she can say any more. Instead of red blood bubbling from the wound, it oozes black.

She holds up her hand to inspect the black goo. Her claws are coated with it. On a hunch, she brings a finger to her tongue to taste.

The flavor brings her back to her spring break of junior year, where the waves of the Pacific carried her further than she wanted and she choked on the water, nearly drowned. Sort of fishy, sort of okay, but way too briny. Although this black stuff also has an undertone of sweet to it to balance the salt.

Instinct takes over. Madison claws her way through the shapeshifter’s chest. When it’s exposed, her heart doesn’t move; for some reason, absurdly, Madison thought it would have.

She curls her fingers around it and pulls it out.

 

 

 

The woods are never ending.

Madison thinks she’s been wandering through this wasteland for weeks now - time is not as she knew it here. Breaks in the tree cover are few and far between, and when Madison stands beneath one, all she sees above is slate grey. Characterless, unchanging. Even though there doesn’t appear to be a sun or any other heavenly light source, the otherworld is constantly lit. It reminds Madison of overcast days back home, where the sky teased them with the threat of rain, where the sun remained hidden from dawn to dusk and beyond. Except Madison doesn’t think the featureless gray she sees between the trees is sky; if it is, it’s not very convincing.

 

 

 

A soft voice whispers in her head from time to time, and it soothes her emotions that she didn’t know were out of control. She knows the voice is inside her head, for when she tries to follow it, it leads her nowhere. It will chuckle from time to time, sounding like a wildcat’s throaty purr.

Madison doesn’t know why, but when she hears the voice, she thinks _mother_ and is filled with acceptance.

 

 

 

She finds a tree and marks it as her own. This tree _belongs_ to her. She snarls at any creature that dares come closer than a restraining order would allow.

She wonders sometimes how many residents there are here, how diverse they are. If anyone ever tried to document the demographical, cryptozoological, and cultural information about this otherworld, like humans on earth do in their cities, states, countries. Well, they wouldn’t document cryptozoological information, it would be anthropological. But anyway.

That information about the otherworld would have fascinated her in another lifetime. She would have spent all of her time learning everything she could about this place.

Instead, she’s moved on, and instead of fawning over the facts, she’s living and creating them.

 

 

 

Glen finds her one day, tells her he wants her to carry his pups.

Madison rips his head off.

 

 

 

A curious song whistles through the trees. It’s familiar; Madison must have heard it before, though she doesn’t know where from or what it’s called. Her curiosity makes her fall out of her tree and investigate the source of the sound. She wouldn’t have been able to track down the source of the whistling if she were human - then again, if she were human, she wouldn’t be in this place.

Alongside the song, a scraping sound begins.

Madison does not travel north, east, south, or west, for there is no direction in the otherworld.

She darts through the undergrowth, a silent stalker.

There, beneath a withered pine, she finds the creature responsible for the tune. He sits on a boulder, sharpening a knife against a rock, lips pursed and cheeks hollowed into a whistle. He’s a large man compared to most of the men in Madison’s old life. He’s dirty and unkempt, like most of the otherworld’s denizens, but he wears the filth in the way that makes him appear seasoned, not abject.

The whistling stops. He looks up from his occupation. His attention narrows in where Madison is watching from the brush.

“I know you’re there, sweetheart,” he says in a drawling accent. The word _Louisiana_ springs to Madison’s mind. “What was it that interested you?”

Rather than answer, she slinks back from where she came. That creature has a weapon that gives him an advantage. Madison only has herself.

_Don’t bring a gun to a knife fight_ , her dad said when she got into a fight at school. She doesn’t remember what the fight was about, but she remembers her dad collecting her from the principle’s office, her left eye blossoming with a bruise, a tooth chipped, and blood dripping from her nose over her lips. She thought his advise was stupid at the time, incomparable to the fight she just lost against a boy three years older than her and double her weight. She was not a knife, and the boy was not a gun.

Now, Madison has her claws, and the whistling creature has a knife.

It’s all about survival here. If she fought the whistling creature, she would lose, discontinue surviving.

She understands what her dad meant all those years ago.

 

 

 

What’s the point of an afterlife when everything appears to be in stasis? No change, no anything.

Well, one thing’s changed.

Madison scratches her claws against a tree trunk. Long gouges score the bark. Her territory, an issued warning.

She doesn’t remember being possessive before.

You must adapt to survive in the otherworld.

Mother coos in her ear, strokes stale air against her cheek. Madison closes her eyes and feels.

_My child, there is a point. To love, live, and be free._

_You are your own here._

_You are pure._

 

**Author's Note:**

> check out the [one time wonders meme](http://gpad.co.vu/post/95376013134/attention-supernatural-fans-brought-to-you-by) on tumblr and the [blog](http://onetimewonders.tumblr.com) that goes with it!!


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